Fast typing - "On Exiting Universitätsspital Zürich, New Year’s Eve"

The open air had the predictable sparkle After two months not only indoors

But flat on my back, waiting, mostly, For the neck they kept cutting open to heal

So that when they wheeled me out through double Doors and the tram passed across my field Of view and the scattered strangers flecked The white blur my eyes made

Like floaters after a long sleep, I felt, Sudden in my plexus, the exact angle of loss I had lived with when I lived here

As though it had waited for me to return so as To enter me again, as though I had not Lived four years without it, elsewhere, where They say life is, regardless of where you are,

So that as the bells of the Fraumünster rang From inside the steeples, the tail Of the lake stretching out of view between The hills on either side

I became, As an actor becomes, animated, populated by Someone else’s feelings, someone else’s spirit—

And now, a few years later still, I know To ask if this complex of feeling, deep-frozen, Waiting for me, was my actual life—

Not a portion of the life, not A possible life, but my tangled and patient Actual implausible resilient fucked-up life?